Coping with Company
by Gracie-Girl87
Summary: Wash has always pushed Tucker, driving him to be a better version of himself. He sees the potential leader Tucker can become. But now, Wash is healing and coping with the fact that he is waking up in a hospital bed yet again. Defeated. This time, Tucker gives a small push to help Wash understand that he doesn't always need to be moving. Rated T for bad language.


**Scene:** (Just after season 12 ep. 18). Tucker has just been stabbed by Felix in an attempt to save his friends from a sticky grenade. Wash was viciously beaten by the invisible Locus. Once exposed by Church and Tucker, Felix and Locus were forced to follow protocol and leave the battle. Now back at the old mining facility, known as Armonia, the New Republic and the Federal Army of Chorus are figuring out how to get along with one another now that the truth has been revealed. Tucker and Wash are recovering in the facility's hospital. Tucker is awake and well. Wash is now coming to.

Wash begins to wake up in his hospital bed. He moans and rubs his hand on the back of his head. He yawns as he tries to sit up slowly. His right eye has a dark underline while the left side of his face is painted with blacks and blues. His vision is blurry, but he notices that someone is in the hospital bed just across from him.

 **Tucker:** You look like shit.

Wash immediately recognizes Tucker's voice and becomes conscience that he is no longer wearing his visor and helmet. Blinking hard he looks up at the florescent lights overhead in an attempt to gain better vision.

 **Tucker:** When was the last time you slept?

Becoming more aware of where he was, Wash began to inspect his body. He obviously felt the colors on his face and the split in his lip. There were no serious cuts, minus the sizable one on his left forearm. The bruises, however, were quite extensive. His knuckles were bloodied, but wrapped up tight in white medical tape.

He brought his hand up to his throat and swallowed hard. It was dry and heavily bruised from Locus' hands. The last thing Wash recalled was being choked out by Locus. Rather than kill him, Locus picked Washington up by his neck and slammed the back of his head to the ground. Though the impact had weakened Wash, Locus dealt one final blow across his face to finish the job. Wash looked about him, feeling slightly vulnerable in his state.

 **Wash:** Has anyone been in here?

 **Tucker:** Nah, man. Just Palomo. I swear I'm gonna get a fucking restraining order against that guy.

 **Wash:** I'm sure he just means well. Anyone else?

 **Tucker:** Um, Carolina was here with Church in the beginning, but since then, no one else.

Wash rubbed the front of his hair and traced it to the back of his head. He spoke up hoarsely,

 **Wash:** What happened to you?

Tucker: That dick Felix fucking stabbed me, bro!

Tucker confidently lowered his blanket and lifted his shirt to expose his bandages just below his left rib cage. Wash looked on sleepily, still trying to focus his eyes. He rubbed them a bit more, noticing Tucker's ridiculous amount of tattoos. Tucker shrugged and lowered his shirt,

 **Tucker:** Whatever, man! We got 'em!

 **Wash:** How long have I been out?

 **Tucker:** Not long. It happened just yesterday.

 **Wash:** What did happen?

Tucker leaned back onto his pillow and threw up his left arm behind his head.

 **Tucker:** That loud mouth spilled everything! Church and I got it on tape and showed it to everyone. (Smirking) They ran for it, man.

 **Wash:** Did you just say "on tape"? (Chuckling) How old are you?

 **Tucker:** I don't know, old man. How old are you?

 **Wash:** How old do I look?

 **Tucker:** Dude, _today_? Like fifty!

Wash chuckled lightly at the humor as Tucker pointed jokingly.

 **Tucker:** I didn't peg you for a blonde. At _your_ age, it should be silver.

 **Wash:** It _feels_ like it should be silver. (Huffs) I'm 32 in four months.

 **Tucker:** No shit?! Well, no offense, Wash, but you seem older than 32.

 **Wash:** Alright Alright. I get it. I've never been able to sleep much. I guess it shows.

 **Tucker:** No, I mean you're better than 32. Smarter. Ya know?

Wash looked up at Tucker. It was one of the most assuring statements he had ever received. With Project Freelancer, he was constantly teased and ridiculed for the soldier he was, but this… this meant something to him. Tucker rolled onto his right side reaching for a piece of folded paper that was on his hospital table. Wash watched for a bit then asked,

 **Wash:** What is that?

 **Tucker:** My son, Junior.

 **Wash:** (Smiling) Right. You're a father… with an alien child… Are you mar…

 **Tucker:** Woah dude! Don't say the **M** word, 'cause I'm not! And yeah, this is my kid.

Folding the photo in half, Tucker flicked it over to Wash. Once he opened it, he held it back from himself then shook his head laughing.

 **Wash:** I have so many questions that I am too tired to even think about right now.

He tossed the photo back to Tucker, who stood it back up right on his table.

 **Tucker:** If I didn't have all this tape wrapped around me, I'd show you the scar that proves he's mine. He came out _full alien_ , if you know what I'm sayin'.

Wash smiled, slightly confused, but interested in Tucker's eager happiness. Cocking one eye brow up,

 **Wash:** Junior?

 **Tucker:** Yeah

 **Wash:** Junior. Lavernius Junior.

Tucker smiled at the photo in a delighted manner.

 **Tucker:** It's got a nice ring to it, don't cha think?

Wash rolled his shoulder back, trying to sit up a little. It hurt to do much, but his stiff joints needed the movement. Tucker rolled onto his back with his hand tucked under his head.

 **Tucker:** You got anyone?

Wash felt a bit of whiplash from the question. No one had asked him in ages. His eyes shifted back and forth at a loss for words.

 **Tucker:** Any kids, or what?

 **Wash:** Hm? Oh. No. Um, I have two sisters and my Mom.

 **Tucker:** Oh Ho! A Mamma's boy, huh?

 **Wash:** (Scoffs) If I was, maybe I'd be better about calling.

They shared a smile, then Wash hung his head thinking and wringing his wrapped hands. He traced the tape with his thumb as he thought about his family. Where they might be. What they were doing. If they were okay. He hadn't paid any thought to them in months. He hadn't the time for it up until this moment. Tucker interrupted jokingly,

 **Tucker:** So… no David Juniors, huh?

Wash: (Looking up at Tucker surprised) How did… They shouldn't be using my name here.

Wash looked to the door. In his mind he was blaming whichever doctor or nurse had been using it. Tucker sat up in a hurry.

 **Tucker:** Woah! Calm down. It's just me. Church told me ages ago.

 **Wash:** Church? …. Oh. Church.

Wash thought to himself: _If it wasn't from a file he found then it must have been from when we released the EMP at Project Freelancer Headquarters. The Director, he said my name then._

Wash looked back at Tucker and nodded. Clearing his throat he said seriously,

 **Wash:** No. No David Juniors.

Sighing through his nose, Wash looked at the door then back to Tucker.

 **Wash:** But out there, I'm Agent Washington.

 **Tucker:** (Waving his hand) Yeah, man. Don't worry about it.

Wash nodded then swallowed hard once more. He thought to himself: _If not the Director, then maybe Carolina told Church. Maybe she just wasn't thinking and my name slipped in one of their conversations._

Rarely was he called David, but when he was, Wash either felt a warming sense of home or an immediate sense of danger with some sort of ransom held against it. He shook all unpleasant thoughts away then cleared his throat with a rough short cough. Reaching for the water on his hospital table, he groaned and immediately held his ribs tightly. He decided against it.

 **Tucker:** Easy, Wash. You have three broken ribs and a heavy concussion. At least that's what they said.

 **Wash:** (Holding his forehead) I believe it.

Wash didn't like feeling this way. He felt naked without his rifle, his knives and his armor. To the right of his bed was a longer table along the wall with his armor displayed across it. Next to it was Tucker's armor. Wash looked at it for a minute, a bit depressed that he couldn't even reach for his water without nearly fainting. Tucker noticed the longing look on Wash's face and was able to put two and two together. Tucker brought his knees up and leaned forward.

 **Tucker:** It'll be a couple days, man. Just relax.

 **Wash:** (Sighs) There are worse things that could be happening I suppose.

 **Tucker:** Yeah! We could be ship wrecked, stuck in a canyon with low food supply and a broken radio.

 **Wash:** (Scoffs) Yeah. That.

 **Tucker:** (Chuckling) Or you could have a grappling hook stuck to your balls.

 **Wash:** Jesus. I never should have told you that.

 **Tucker:** Too late now! Cats out of the bag!

Wash looked over at his armor once more. Tucker snapped his fingers as if he were tossing it.

 **Tucker:** Yo! Wash! You don't always need to be moving. Like I said, just relax.

 **Wash:** Sometimes it's hard to.

 **Tucker:** Well, (leaning back onto his pillow) a great leader once told me, "You just have to try."

 **Wash:** (Half smiling, still looking to his armor) A great leader, huh?

 **Tucker:** Uh, yeah. Maybe … Was it George Washington who said it? Shit, I don't remember.

 **Wash:** (Groans) Don't make me laugh.

 **Tucker:** Don't be a conceited dick then.

Wash laughed lightly. Holding his ribs tightly, he reached for his water again and was able to reach it this time. He felt more awake. The conversation was calming his raging headache and spinning thoughts. Wash was glad to have the company, even though he wouldn't admit to it out loud. Tucker smiled at his picture again letting out an energetic sigh. Clapping his hands he said,

 **Tucker:** So, Church and Delta figured out who Locus and Felix are working for.

 **Wash:** (A bit surprised) Really? Who is it?

 **Tucker:** Ever heard of Charon Industries?

 **Wash:** (Hesitantly) Y-yes. I have.

 **Tucker:** Wanna take a guess at who runs it?

 **Wash:** (seriously) I have an idea. Is it…

 **Tucker:** The chairman. (Wash nods) Church has a plan. We're gonna send him a call using the radio frequencies the mercs used. Dr. Gray is working on trying to pin point them right now. We'll send that call, ya know, once we're out and about again.

 **Wash:** (sipping his water) Sounds like a plan. (Repositioning himself, he grunted) So, we did it then, for now at least.

 **Tucker:** Hell yeah man!

With that, Tucker threw a fist bump into the air towards Wash. Confused, Wash took another sip of his water, while Tucker held his fist up awkwardly. Slapping his hand down on his lap, he laughed,

 **Tucker:** Jesus, man! You are old!

 **End Scene**


End file.
